


Valentine's Day

by Blackpearl



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Crack, Fluff, M/M, Stupidity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-18
Updated: 2012-03-18
Packaged: 2017-11-02 03:41:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/364587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blackpearl/pseuds/Blackpearl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A fluffy Valentine's Day story written for my best friend, Hannah :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Valentine's Day

John Watson lay in an uncomfortable bed, with only a thin sheet draped across his legs, and a rolled up t-shirt underneath his head serving as a crude form of a pillow. Around him people were chatting, laughing, playing cards; the usual things people did to pass the time. The sound of distant gunshots ricocheted inside his head as he heard someone bustling around beside him, saying his name over and over again. 

“John… John…” 

He tried to ignore it and keep his eyes closed, but the person was so desperate to wake him that they began to gently tap him on the shoulder, and then started to shake him more violently. 

“John!”

He finally gave up and opened his eyes. A sharp pain shot through his right leg as it always did after he had been dreaming about Afghanistan. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he saw the face of his flatmate floating above him, his long spidery fingers steepled under his chin. 

“Bloody hell, Sherlock! What do you want?” 

Sherlock said nothing for a moment, merely rocking back and forth on his crouched legs. John noticed that he was already dressed in his usual crisp, dark suit and perfectly ironed white shirt. 

“Sherlock?” John repeated, desperately resisting the urge to shove him off the bed and then go back to sleep. 

Finally, Sherlock spoke, his voice low and deadly serious. “John, something terrible has happened.” 

John sat bolt upright, almost smacking his head against Sherlock’s in the process. “Well don’t just sit there, tell me!” 

“John, we’re out of jam.” 

*

Half an hour later and they were both at the supermarket. Sherlock had been so insistent on them getting there as quickly as possible, that he had, quite literally, followed John around as he got ready in order to make sure that he didn’t deliberately delay them. John’s innocent question of why Sherlock couldn’t just wait until he did the weekly food shop the following day had resulted in a death glare, and an equally icy reply of “Do you want me to starve to death?” 

At present, Sherlock was eagerly running up and down the aisles, searching for the specific type of strawberry jam that he so desperately craved. John traipsed behind him, staring around at the pink-themed decorations and endless rows of flowers and heart-shaped chocolate boxes with confusion until it finally dawned on him that it was Valentine’s Day, and that he, once again, didn’t have anyone to share it with. Sherlock re-appearing with a circular jar held tenderly in his hands jolted John from his thoughts. Sherlock presented the jar to him, indicating that it was John who would be paying for it. 

“Are we done here?” he sighed, taking the jam from his flatmate’s outstretched hands. 

“Actually I just thought that maybe we should get something for Mrs Hudson,” Sherlock replied. 

“Why?” 

“Well, she has done a lot for us.”

“I suppose there aren’t many landladies who would still let us live in her apartment after you fired bullets at the walls,” John agreed. “Okay, you go find what you want and I’ll wait here.” 

Sherlock scurried off again and John leant backwards against the end of a shelf full of Valentine’s cards, wondering a little worriedly exactly what Sherlock would come back with. It was incredibly unlike him to even think of anyone else, let alone contemplate buying something for them, so John was surprised when he returned with a bouquet of pink, purple and white flowers. Just as John stepped forwards to take a closer look at Sherlock’s choice, a female shop assistant appeared from around the corner with a man dressed as cupid and an obnoxiously large camera. 

“Hi there guys,” said the shop assistant in an annoyingly chipper voice and John and Sherlock shared a glance. “We’re taking pictures of couples in our store as part of a Valentine’s project to increase customer and employer interaction and may I just say that you two are so sweet together!” 

“Oh, no, we’re not a-” John began, but Sherlock silenced him by placing his hand across his mouth and giving a dazzling smile to the shop assistant. 

“Do we get a copy of the photo?” he asked. 

“Oh of course, if you want one!” 

“Brilliant.” Sherlock offered another heart-stopping smile. 

John tugged lightly on his sleeve and whispered, “What the hell are you doing?” into his ear. 

“Oh come on John, play along. You know how much I love it when shops do crazy things like customer employer interaction projects!” 

John raised his eyebrows. “You hate everything to do with that.” 

Sherlock laughed loudly, and, turning back to the shop assistant said, “My partner hates having his photo taken, but we’ll do it. Won’t we darling?”

John groaned inwardly, but, remembering that Sherlock got what Sherlock wanted, decided to go along with it, said, “Sure. Of course we will, honey.”

The shop assistant grinned broadly while the man dressed as Cupid positioned himself between John and Sherlock. They smiled for the camera, John cringing slightly at how ridiculous he must look, and Sherlock looking like he was having the time of his life. When it was done, the assistant and Cupid went to print them a copy whilst they went to pay for the flowers and jam. 

Whilst waiting in the check-out, John said, “Is this what not having any cases does to you? Turns you into a maniac?” 

Sherlock looked crest-fallen. “No, I just wanted a nice picture of you and I.” 

John paused. “Why?” 

“Why not?” 

They lapsed into silence. John paid for their items and waited for the shop assistant to return with their photo. She arrived a few minutes later with the photo in a white cardboard frame. They said their thanks and departed the store. It had blossomed into a beautiful day since they had been in the supermarket: the sun shone brightly in the clear blue sky and a light breeze rustled through the trees. The two flatmates decided to drop off the stuff at their flat and go for a walk, to make the most of the unusually good weather. They found themselves sat on a bench in the park, John eating a bagel which he had just bought and Sherlock sipping an iced coffee. A young couple walking hand in hand caught his eye, and Sherlock wondered what it would be like to walk down the street holding someone’s hand.

Holding John’s hand.

What? Where had that thought come from? Sherlock glanced tentatively sideways at his companion, and studied his face as John gazed off far into the distance. 

“I’d completely forgotten it was Valentine’s Day today,” Sherlock said, surprising even himself with what he said. Where was he going with this?

John turned his head towards his. “Yes, me too. Although the excessive array of pink things in the supermarket did remind me.” 

A smile flickered on Sherlock’s lips for a moment. “Do you have any plans for tonight?” 

John looked shocked. “What?”

“I mean…err…” Sherlock faltered. “I thought you might have a date with someone, given your track record with women.” 

“Oh, no, I don’t have any plans.” 

“Good.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

For the second time that day, they lapsed into silence. 

“Do you have any plans?” John asked after a few minutes. 

“No, I don’t.”

Inwardly, John was thrilled with that response, but he would never tell Sherlock that. For some reason, the idea of Sherlock ever going on a date with anyone made John feel funny. Anyone but me, he thought. 

“John?” Sherlock inched closer to him, fighting against his will to not rest his hand on John’s leg. 

“Yeah?” 

“As it’s Valentine’s Day… I wondered… Do you want to go to dinner?” He held his breath and he waited for John’s response. He supposed that he had probably always felt something for John; something quiet and unspoken, like there was never the right time to say anything, or the right words with which to say it. 

Eventually, John’s face broke into a smile. “I’d love to go for dinner.”

Relief washed over Sherlock. “Does this constitute a date?”

John shrugged. “If you want it to.” 

“I do want it to. Very much.”

“Then it’s a date. Literally.”

Overcome by a sudden flood of emotions, Sherlock found himself leaning over to kiss John on the cheek. 

“Come on,” said John, offering his hand. “Let’s get home.” 

Sherlock took it, and they walked back to 221B Baker Street hand in hand.


End file.
